Christmas Visits
by Billy Bob Grint
Summary: Ron and Hermione go and visit over an old friend.


"Are we going to make this an annual tradition?" Hermione Granger whispered to her companion. She stood shivering slightly as the cold air gushed past them in the courtyard and waited for his response. The snow obscured her view, and it didn't help that the area was only dimly lit by a few streetlamps near the church not far behind them, but she could tell that he had heard her, even if he didn't voice it.

"Ron, this should be a time to be together, with family. You can't just stand out here everyday, it's not good for you, and your parents are so worried about you," Hermione went on, trying to get Ron to look at her, but still he stared in front of him as though what he was looking at was the only thing in existence.

"You're worse than Ginny, and I didn't think that was possible, but are you going to spend your entire life here? Nothing's going to change. Nothing's going to bring back –"

"Stop, Hermione. I'm not here because I'm trying to wish for something that could never come true, you know. I want to be here - and yes, I want to be here today, is that too much to ask? I am with family, you've got to realise that," Ron Weasley said in a distant voice, still staring blankly ahead. Hermione tried her hardest to keep her sobs silent; she knew that Ron would react if he heard her crying and it would just make matters worse.

"I do realise that, Ron! I'm here for the same reason, if you hadn't noticed. Look, I know Harry, and he wouldn't have wanted you to spend Christmas day like this. He'd have wanted you to be happy, not staring over his grave. Don't you dare forget that he gave his life so that we could be happy!" Hermione choked, now wiping her wet cheeks with her gloves.

"You think I've forgotten? You think I don't have nightmares of it – that I don't see it all the time? I see him dying over and over again, and it's a bit hard to let things go as a result. I'm here with the ones I love, and exactly where I want to be today. I don't need a big banquet and a Christmas tree to show that." Ron pursed his lips in annoyance after saying this, looking thoroughly annoyed, but then let out a despondent sigh.

Hermione moved to hold Ron's mitten-covered hand, squeezing hard to show at least she was there with him. Ron gripped his hand around Hermione's and pulled her down as he sat on the snow-laced grass in front of them. Agreeing wordlessly, Hermione sat down next to Ron and stared ahead at the tombstone before them, both at a loss of words.

A few minutes passed in companionable silence before Ron looked over and whispered, sounding almost desperate, "D'you think he would've been happy for us?"

Hermione bit her lip to muffle the sob that she so longed to release and nodded at Ron, who was looking over at her thoughtfully. She could feel his eyes boring onto her profile and eventually turned over to look at him, tears streaming down her saddened face.

"He knew there was something between us, even before we might have known. I'm pretty sure he noticed it in seventh year – especially those faces you kept making at me," Hermione giggled despite the situation, and Ron's reddened ears contrasted greatly to the snow falling on his shoulders, giving away his embarrassment.

"I never made any faces at you!" Ron hissed back indignantly.

"You're _joking_, surely? Ginny used to make fun of you all the time because you couldn't stop staring, and Harry -"

Hermione stopped mid-sentence, the argument completely forgotten as she looked over to Ron, whose scowl transformed into a grimace, once again taking the dejected look he had before they began to row.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned -"

"No," Ron interrupted her again. "You shouldn't feel like you can't ever talk about him – would make it seem like he didn't exist or something. Just trying to cope, I suppose. I hate this. The world is saved and the saviour never got to see it happen. Where's the justice, Hermione? Is it fair that everyone was bloody celebrating when V-Voldemort was destroyed, and forgetting that they lost a great person in the process? They didn't spend more than five minutes grieving over Harry. Was that all his life was worth – five minutes of acknowledgement?"

"Grown up, have you?" Hermione asked with a wry smile.

"I wish I hadn't grown up this way. I wish Harry didn't have the life he did, always marked for death - what sort of kid wants that? He took it really well, except maybe in fifth year, but still, I would've cracked ages before he did..." Ron said as he shuffled on his knees to move toward the tombstone before him.

Hermione watched him go, her brows knitted in mild interest as she wondered what he was doing. Ron was now kneeling before the large piece of marble, which was covered with a few inches of snow from the day's storm, and proceeded to take his home-knitted mittens off.

Ron took his right forefinger and traced the letters on the head of the marble, scraping off all the snow that obscured the name hiding behind it. He took his time, caressing the words almost delicately, as though they were something fragile and liable to shatter. A small hill of snow lay in front of the tombstone on top of the bouquet of lilies they brought with them when he had finished, and Ron gazed at the words in front of him as though transfixed, his eyes surprisingly dry.

"He still has his entire life to live..." Ron whispered before burying his face in his hands. He felt Hermione's arms encircle his waist; his trembling body stiffened for a moment before relaxing into her warm embrace. Neither one of them were sure how long they sat that way, bathed in the soft light now coming from the moon that was lighting the clear night sky, but they did not care – they would not have chosen to been anywhere else at that moment.

They weren't brought out of their reverie until they heard footsteps behind them. Years of being at the ready for anything, they gripped their wands immediately and waited for the intruder to make another sound. The two were surprised when the next sound they heard was that of carollers down the road near an old manor. Ron wiped his face with the back of his hand and turned around to look at Hermione, who was still holding him from behind.

"We can't dwell on what would have been, even Harry didn't do that. He lived for the present and the future, not stuck in the past, Ron. You need to do the same – for your sake, and for ours. Harry wouldn't have wanted you to stop living your life because he didn't get a choice in his own. You're his best friend; he would have wanted the best for you, which includes a future with a brilliant career and a happy family... and love, Ron, _love_. Harry once said to me that Dumbledore used to tell him that the biggest gift and power you have is to love, and he would've wanted you to live and love, as trite as that sounds. So live, Ron, and know that Harry would never hate you for moving on with your life. He could never hate you," Hermione whispered in Ron's ear. Ron was stock-still, but nodded a moment later, knowing full well that she was right.

A little while later, when they realised that they would be reprimanded if didn't show up to the Burrow for at least a mug of hot chocolate, the two chose to depart. As he helped her stand up, Ron looked over to Hermione, eyeing her intently.

It was a few minutes before she noticed, as she was too busy wrapping her scarf around her neck, but when she did she raised an eyebrow at him. He responded to her unvoiced question.

"Harry would have liked being buried here, right? Where else would he want to be then Godric's Hollow, with his mum and dad," Ron gestured towards the gravesites next to them.

"I'm positive that this is the only place he would have wanted to have been, with his parents next to him." Tears were cascading down Hermione's face as she muttered this, and Ron engulfed her in his arms, holding her tight as he stroked her long, bushy hair idly. "I hope... I hope he's happy with them now..." she muttered.

"Would've been nice to have a best man at our wedding, you know?" Ron said a few minutes later.

"You're not going to ask anyone else?" Hermione mumbled into Ron's cloak. She felt Ron shake his head no before she let go of him. He dropped his arms from her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. 

"No one is taking Harry's place. Ever."

Hermione understood, and held her hand out for Ron to take, who was just finishing putting his mittens on. They looked around the area to make sure no one was in the vicinity, and with a pop, they were both gone.

* * *

Ron and Hermione visited Harry's gravesite in Godric's Hollow each year, on his birthday and at Christmas, and whenever either or both of them felt the need to talk to him, which was often at first but less so as they got older. Though, when Ron and Hermione were much older and Ron had taken Hermione's advice to live life and love, he spent his final days with Harry, always chatting about the latest Quidditch scores or how Hermione and their many grandchildren were driving him insane.

Hermione never questioned this; she knew he would never leave, that Ron would always be happiest when he was talking to Harry. The look in his eye whenever they used to plot their next adventure only showed when he was with his best friend, the only person who could understand him and not comprehend the many things in life, like how women thought and why Hermione was the way she was. She knew he was content whenever he was there, and that was enough reason for her to never ask or judge his choices.

The last few days were the most painful, but Hermione – true Gryffindor until the very end – held up a brave front as she watched her husband deteriorate to nothing. She loved him enough to let him go, and as she mourned her loss, she at least knew, albeit with a heavy heart, that Harry and Ron would once again have the chance to embark on their next adventure.

* * *


End file.
